Find the rhythm inside your life and
dance
Infer the music within the chords and
play
Hear the rhyme between your ears and
ignore it
Make it go
away
Chagall 2019
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When love is gone,
the weight of the world is back,
the waiting on the word is back,
when love is gone
Without air I breathe
under sky too well,
as underwater
When time is past,
the now of the world returns,
the loss of words returns
for only now
Without you I lose
the sky known well,
as underground
When stars converge,
all that’s left is light,
all that is light
remains
Chagall 2019
Someday I will know you, without words I will recognize
the swath of life you cut; you, beguiled in form,
charm an impression eternal, conjure sibilant prayer,
the whisper of vespers, billowy puffs aromatic arise
at the touch, the long run of smoothed legs
I lose myself behind closed eyes,
the small of your ankle bone against
the hollow of my cheek, in roaming worship
I will explore all you purport to be
Chagall 2019
turn it
upside-down
the oil flows
the other way
might be
good
for 1
more
Chagall 2019
The seer rolls her eyes, arms flail wildly,
she gasps, repeatedly exclaiming Oh my! as she pores
over the multitude of life-lines etched there on my palm.
Chagall 2019
Doctor said I got worse and worst news for you.
I said OK. What’s worse?
She said you got 24 hours.
I said OK. What’s worst?
She said, I really did try to call you yesterday.
- With that in mind, breathe in deeply, wherever you are,
and savor the overwhelming headiness of life, the actual.
This Bud’s for you.
Chagall 2019
Parallel universes are a bitch.
Ever try juggling more than 2?
Chagall 2019
spider webs
on my
guitar stand
there’s
filament
everywhere
so I tune
to gossamer
my tension
just right
at the peg
oh,
what a life
I’ve woven
strum me
Chagall 2019
I have heard the sky distinctly
vocalize adoration
In fact
it’s the norm
The blue is a choir’s harmony,
that you’ll miss if you only see
Ride on clouds, look down
over people, wave, they gaze up
The deepest shadows
beneath you, above brightest light,
the first phantoms we see tonight
I may wish, I am told,
and I might
Tonight, somewhere,
is truth
A promise
to be good
Come true…
comes true!
The dizzying height
from stars looking down
is nothing but pure hallelujah
Chagall 2019
I need a gal with a chipper,
a chipper, a chipper, to help me with
downed trees
I need a guy with a mower,
a mower, a mower, to help me with
patchy bent grass
I need a crew with clippers, big clippers,
to help me prune
canopies
I need another me, another arm
to steady my stand upon this bough
while I saw it out from under
Chagall 2019
Alphabet City 